Page 49 of The Stones for It
Her fangs sunk into my thigh.
I grunted at the bite of pain and shoved my sword through the back of her neck. She released me with a wet squelch, and I was on to the next.
Neiron pleaded with my mate behind me, but their words were lost to the flurry of fangs and claws and violence as my blades sang for the horde.
Magic ripped through the air as the two royals called on their powers from behind their forces. Shifters didn’t have all the fancy tricks of some other castes, but these cowards specialised in a unique brand of terrified confusion.
Icy magic raked my mind, coaxing out my fears.
I was too weak to fight this many fae and win.
They’d take my mate from me.
I couldn’t protect her.
Agony raged through my wings, snapping me from the panicked haze.
A bouda swiped his claws through my delicate membranes again, and I impaled him on the long talon, ignoring the flare ofpain before I shook off the dead weight and folded the injured wing close to my back.
My own magic rose to meet the mental onslaught, and I shoved the two royals out with a growl, slicing through the bodies, pressing closer with a renewed fury. A few stags were being shoved to the front by the boudas, and I split my attention to the iron shackling their wrists.
“Any who continue this fight incite war with my court!” I bellowed, swinging my swords in a showy arc I half-loathed. I bared my fangs and threw my wings wide, flaring my spikes aggressively despite the pain. “Surrender, and receive my protection.”
As I’d hoped, the indentured stags and jackalopes slowed. They filtered backwards until the last few boudas closed in alone.
I grinned ruthlessly, wrath pounding through my blood as I leapt for the male royal. His magic lashed from him, but hit like a clawless scratch.
I slashed through his gut with ease, my shadow blades lethally sharp.
The last royal drew up short. Rage contorted her features as she surveyed the bodies at my feet, and she threw her head back with a stuttering howl.
She whirled on the fae her kind had forced beneath them. “Attack, you useless vermin!”
The largest jackalope lifted his battle-axe and charged. Instead of passing the screeching coward, he heaved his weapon and swung it straight into the bouda’s skull. It split her face down the middle in a gory spray of blood and brain matter.
With a fierce kick, he toppled the royal, letting the body hit the ground with a wet thud, and shot me a challenging snarl. “Let’s hope you keep your word, Gargoyle King.”
I didn’t deign his insult with a response, taking advantage of the momentary shock that held the now leaderless boudas.
The other jackalopes, along with the stags, gave a rallying cheer, but didn’t move to help me further.
“Vrath!” The panicked call of my mate pierced the night.
I spun and immediately dropped my swords as Kelsea fell into me, grasping her waist before she could hit the ground.
The sight of her floored me.
An iron blade protruded from her chest. Blood seeped around it, soaking the front of her pale dress.
Neiron grabbed the bouda who must have thrown the blade, burning him to ash with a blaze of foxfire and a feral snarl.
Rich coffee eyes met mine, already turning glassy.
“No.” The word fell as a harsh command. “Youwillstay with me.”
“I’m sorry, b-big guy,” she coughed, blood splattering my neck. “Couldn’t let you get hurt again.”
Pain carved into my heart, like I’d taken the blade instead. “Little mortal… getting stabbed doesn’t hurt nearly as much as seeing you like this.”
